


put out the fire boys, don't stop, don't stop

by avosettas



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Stream of Consciousness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, post-musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: He doesn’t know how long he sits on that futon, staring at the television, just thinking. Eventually, he comes to the decision that he should at least put his old suit on. He snaps, the red tuxedo falling off.He never wants to see that stupid thing again.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130





	put out the fire boys, don't stop, don't stop

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write beej reflecting on his actions after the musical... he hasn't quite figured out the "explanations, not excuses" thing yet, but he's still learning. mostly this was kind of a stream of conciousness exercise and also i am exhausted so it just came out like this.
> 
> hmu @asriells on tumblr!

There was, he supposes, a reason he kept paying the rent on this stupid place. 

It was cluttered, with just one room - Betelgeuse’s meager salary as a Guide to the Other Side, and his hobby slash side job as a bio-exorcist didn’t pay much. Nothing in the Netherworld did. But then again, neither did the rent, really. Ghosts and born-deads don’t really need much. 

Betelgeuse sits heavily on the futon in the corner. It creaks under his weight. Across the room, the television clicks on by itself. 

Vision quest. His mother might be a liar, but she probably wasn’t lying about his father leaving. At the very least, this late in the game, he probably had no interest in Betelgeuse. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits on that futon, staring at the television, just thinking. Eventually, he comes to the decision that he should at least put his old suit on. He snaps, the red tuxedo falling off. 

He never wants to see that stupid thing again. 

The broken mirror opposite the futon, next to the window, catches his attention. Betelgeuse looks the same as always - heavier than other born-deads, pale, and scruffy. There’s a new scar, though. 

He steps closer. The mirror is cracked, right at his neck. Ironic, really. The first time Betelgeuse died, it was because he’d hung himself and broke his neck. He’d come back a bit too soon for his liking.

Nowhere near as fast as he had when Lydia had stabbed him. 

There’s a hole in Betelgeuse’s chest now - clean through, from back to front, right in between his pecs, nearly in line with his belly button. He sticks a finger in it. 

It aches when he touches it. 

“That one’s not gonna heal,” he grumbles to the empty room. 

He probably deserved it. They didn’t want him around and he didn’t listen. He’s done similar things to people who wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t stop touching him - 

Betelgeuse buttons his shirt up with quick fingers. It was different, he decides, with the Maitlands. He’d just wanted their attention - he wouldn’t have _really_ hurt them. 

Barbara screams in his mind. He stands there, pants around his ankles, and scratches at his head, hard. Black, ectoplasmic blood seeps into Betelgeuse’s eyes, through his eyebrows.

He did really hurt them. And that’s the hardest fact to swallow. He digs his nails into his skull, further, harder.

If Betelgeuse was mad at Lydia, why did he take it out on Barbara? _If mom is mad at one of her employees, why is she taking it out on me?_

Because he’s a product of his upbringing. Maybe he’d deserved it from Juno, but Barbara was… she was nice, she hadn’t been involved, really. 

Well, she had told Betelgeuse that he gave her the creeps. And then let her husband call him a “very unstable individual”. Which he was, but it wasn’t really his fault. And then she’d let Lydia shove him off the roof. 

It was a good thing for him, really, that born-deads had to be very, very injured, or had to kill themselves to actually die and end up back in the Processing Centre. Otherwise the stabbing would have been death number three, instead of death number two. 

He kind of misses Lydia, even if she did shove him off the roof and leave him and stab him… Maybe he deserved it. He pulls his pants up and loops a ragged belt through them. 

He didn’t deserve the roof thing. Or maybe he did, he was kind of… goading her into killing her dad. He can’t wrap his head around it, parents that actually take care of you, and that you loved in return? 

Not to mention, most of the humans who summoned Betelgeuse wanted him for… unsavory deeds. Murder was one of the tamest, in his opinion, because it involved him only tangentially. Sometimes they wanted to use him in rituals. Sometimes they wanted… ugh. 

Lydia had just wanted a friend. He’d tried to be that for her, and then she’d decided that she wanted her _mother_ , of all people. Was Betelgeuse that bad, that she’d want someone who treated her terribly? 

Her dad cared for her. Even though she complained like he didn’t. And her stepmom. And Barbara and Adam. 

Betelgeuse didn’t have anyone anymore. He doesn’t even bother moving to the futon, just drops into a heap on the floor. Dust rises from the carpeting, but it doesn’t matter. 

He’s lost his one chance at having people who cared for him. Maybe, if he got better, nicer, smarter, less clingy and touchy and annoying… 

Betelgeuse falls asleep on a pile of dusty tax papers, television still droning in the background.


End file.
